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           There’sthedayIfoundIwasalive,hethought,andwhyisn’titbrighterthantheothers?

           There’sthedayJohnHufffellofftheedgeoftheworld,gone;whyisn’titdarkerthantheothers?

           Where,whereallthesummerdogsleapinglikedolphinsinthewind-braidedandunbraidedtidesofwhat?WherelightningsmellofGreenMachineortrolley?Didthewineremember?Itdidnot!Orseemednot,anyway.

           Somewhere,abooksaidonce,allthetalkevertalked,allthesongseversung,stilllived,hadvibratedwayoutinspaceandifyoucouldtraveltoFarCentauriyoucouldhearGeorgeWashingtontalkinginhissleeporCaesarsurprisedattheknifeinhisback.Somuchforsounds.Whataboutlightthen?Allthings,onceseen,theydidn’tjustdie,thatcouldn’tbe.Itmustbethenthatsomewhere,searchingtheworld,perhapsinthedrippingmultiboxedhoneycombswherelightwasanambersapstoredbypollen-firedbees,orinthethirtythousandlensesofthenoondragonfly’sgemmedskullyoumightfindallthecolorsandsightsoftheworldinanyoneyear.OrpouronesingledropofthisdandelionwinebeneathamicroscopeandperhapstheentireworldofJulyFourthwouldfireworkoutinVesuviusshowers.Thishewouldhavetobelieve.

           Andyet...lookinghereatthisbottlewhichbyitsnumbersignalizedthedaywhenColonelFreeleighhadstumbledandfallensixfeetintotheearth,Douglascouldnotfindsomuchasagramofdarksediment,notaspeckofthegreatflouringbuffalodust,notaflakeofsulphurfromthegunsatShiloh...